An Espada Cinderella Story
by grimmkitty
Summary: An Espada-centric fairytale of castle politics and power struggles. And a happily ever after.
1. Prologue

Far, far away, in a distant forest skimming the edge of a sandy cliff there was an intricately beautiful castle which withstood the salty storms for years on end.

In it lived the kind of family fairytales aspired to emulate. The lord of the castle was kind and benevolent albeit lazy and had the tendency to fall asleep unexpectedly (upon which his helpful assistant would awake him by squeezing his crotch). The lady of the castle equally kind and generous, albeit a little childish, and had two grotesque but helpful chambermaids named Pesche and Dondochakka.

Their daughter, even at birth, was perfection. As a child her sleek black hair was lined with starshine, her green eyes large and sharp like moonstone, her face so delicately structured and fair that it could give anyone heartache.

She grew up to be the most exquisitely beautiful girl in the entire province, but boys were as easily attracted to her beauty as they were brushed off by her chilly demeanor and her trademark icy glares which came accompanied – when the need arose – with a sharp "whatever".

For all the gifts bestowed upon her by adoring boys and her doting parents, the girl almost never smiled, and even when she did it was fleeting and forced spasm of her uncoordinated lips.

When the girl turned sixteen, her mother was stricken by a dreadful disease. For nights on end, her father sat miraculously awake, his eyes bloodshot as his wife's life dwindled from his empty hands.

The funeral was a small and quick affair, and for the beautiful daughter, nothing happened. Or rather, life happened.

Sometime or another, the lord of the household came upon his new wife who was perhaps the antithesis of his previous wife. She was hideous as the deceased lady was stunning, with a strange eye patch over one eye, an odd leering grin which only disappeared when it had to be disrupted by a belch. Her hair was long and lank, and oiler than several OPEC countries put together. Yet the lord did not care, because he'd stopped caring about that passive process called life for a very long time, perhaps, ever since the death of the only woman he'd ever loved.

In a week or so the two had gotten married, and the newspapers hailed it as the freak marriage of the year. To the dismay of the lord's daughter, she not only had a new and unwelcome stepmother but two stepsisters which she tried her best to treat with apathy but just ended up disliking with a passion very unlike her.

The older sister was huge and hulking, and on their first meeting the daughter had politely asked if she felt marginalized by society for her cross-dressing habits, only to be slapped hard and screamed at.

"I'm a girl, you little bitch! My name's YAMMY! It's a girl's name! I'm a feckin' girl!"

The younger sister was thin as the older sister was enormous, but with a mean streak disproportionate to her slim body. What gave away a hint of her malicious nature was her luxurious and abundant pink hair – it was so big because it housed all kinds of horrible secrets.

The lord's daughter had simultaneously offended her new stepsisters, which in turn offended the stepmother because she tended to side with her own daughters. They took this as an excuse to wage their personal vendetta against the beautiful daughter, which consisted of petty little acts and pettier mind games like stealing her fashionable dresses and cutting holes in her undergarments and such.

Things would have been tolerable had the lord not passed away abruptly one night. The pink-haired brat pushed open her stepsister's door the next morning and screamed, "Your daddy's dead, get up and let's go see!" before the older sister barged in and rolled her sweaty body onto the creaking bed.

With trembling fingers the daughter sat up and steeled her nerves. She hissed coldly and received another heavy smack across the cheek.

But when she finally arrived downstairs, when she finally grasped her father's hand in her own – impossibly colder – she knew it was true. As such, she attended her second funeral, watching as they lowered the body into the fresh earth where, no, it did not belong!

She almost expected her father to awake all of a sudden with a lazy yawn like he often did, for he simply looked asleep, and was saddened when the face remained stoic until it was out of sight.

Due to the unexpected death of the breadwinner of the household, the stepmother announced her plans for the family, which included the pruning away of its previous inhabitants.

The lord's faithful assistant was sacked. The lady's two chambermaids were ordered to serve her from now on, upon which they refused and jumped out the castle windows.

Dondochakka was too overweight to squeeze through the window, so he pulled out a knife and slit his wrist until he lay stuck and motionless between the grilles bleeding lifelessly. The cook was sacked. The gardener was sacked. The daughter's teachers were sacked. The dancing girls were sacked. The tambourine man was sacked.

Soon, the castle was devoid of life but for the stepsisters, the stepmother, and the quietly raging daughter.

Because, grunted the stepmother, my daughters are simply too princessy and beautiful to perform menial tasks, you're going to have to do them, it is what your father would have wanted, it is your duty.

The daughter knew that in her current position it was unwise to argue, so she glared and nodded and swore that she would bring wreak an ungodly revenge on them one day.

As the years wore on the daughter was banished first to the walk-in closet, then to the cellar, and then to the cinders where she sat after scrubbing the floors and washing the dishes and doing a variety of humiliating chores like plucking their eyebrows and imitating birdsong while they danced clumsily in the garden. Needless to say, her elaborate wardrobe was given "since she had outgrown it" to the sisters.

Before long and no one really could remember when, she became so insignificant that there was no need to use her real name and no one did, for they had begun to call her a new name: Cindquiorra.

A/N:

In case you did not recognize the characters,

Cinderella – Ulquiorra

Father – Stark

Mother – Nel Tu

Stepmother – Nnoitra

Stepsister 1 – Yammy

Stepsister 2 – Szayel


	2. The King and his men

In a distant town skimming the edge of the forest where a happy, loving family used to live, there was a magical castle which had many names, the most famous being "Hueco Mundo". It was built in a grand, minimalist style which reflected greatly the man who ruled within it everything around.

And what a man. Was there a ruler more magnificent? For he did not look the mere part of a king, but a god, with his slick brown tousled hair and a wayward strand which split his finely crafted face into two. And what a face. Gentle honey-coloured eyes with a dangerous glint of power, framed by thick brown lashes, a strong jaw and soft lips which made the most poisonous remarks yet probably still tasted like honey.

It was no wonder everyone in the kingdom worshipped this man, especially his twisty, sly wife who was beautiful in an unorthodox way, but attractive all the same. It was also no wonder why the Queen had a permanent smile on her face, for there was no greater satisfaction than being the wife of the penultimate King.

At that moment, they were in their side-by-side twin thrones (though the Queen was squirming half out of hers, nuzzling her silver hair under his chin).

A bit reluctantly, the King turned his attention back to the problem at hand. It was a Monday and like all Mondays they were expected to entertain the various peasants and merchants and greedy landlords and musicians and jilted widows and so on, whose problems were so great they could not solve alone. So they went to their omniscient ruler, who gave them advice so wise all worldly problems solved themselves, and even if they didn't, they were already sated by an audience with such a stiflingly charming man.

"What have we here, scribe?" Cooed the Queen, smiling at the guest, a white-haired boy kneeling on the carpet. His stature did not match his hair in any way.

The scribe squinted at the paper. "Would you prefer a male or female voice today, your highness?"

And the Queen looked at her husband, who said contemplatively, "I'd like a nice low voice today, Aaroneiro."

The scribe nodded and cleared his/her throat. "Case 1: Hitsugaya Toushiro of the Tenth district is suffering from delayed puberty. One hundred years to be exact."

The Queen yawned and furrowed her brow. "Bring me some fresh fruit. This is boring!"

She clicked her nails, and the maid brought her a platter of fruit.

"It is my sincere pleasure to be able to do justice to the wonders of the papaya." The maid mumbled in the wrong direction (he was visually challenged).

The King's lush lower lip twitched slightly and he shushed his wife and servant. Giving the seeker of wisdom his attention, he bestowed upon the small boy his empathetic "poor child, I feel your pain" smile, saying grandly after a dramatic pause…

"Do drink more milk."

"Thank you, O Glorious and Resplendent One!" Cried Hitsugaya in awe, and the King smiled gently again and let the boy present him with an ornately carved ice statue while everyone in the hall wept tears of joy at their own fortune for their wise ruler.

Next came an odd looking man with a strange black and white mask and golden eyes. He strutted into the hall with a meek, beautiful looking girl in tow.

"I have a question, O Knowledgeable and Omnipresent One." He announced before the scribe could inform the King.

"Ask away," The King said amiably and propped his chin up on one hand as his eyes glittered with curiosity.

"To supplement my extensive data bank, I would like to know why your wife has no eyes but can see, while your servant has eyes but cannot see."

The King pretended to be stumped so make himself seem more human. "Ours if not to ask why, ours is to do or die."

"That…my king, the genius of your truth has far exceeded my findings!" Exclaimed the visitor, his ears falling off in excitement, and the girl hurried to fix them back on.

After the scientist had leapt on his means of transport, a large caterpillar with a baby's face, and the hall had wept another round of grateful tears, the scribe ushered in the next visitor – a knight!

The King eyed the knight with interest, for he was tall and huge and his hair was done up into spikes with small cowbells on each. His fashion sense was definitely eccentric, but it suited him.

"I challenge you to a duel." Declared the knight gruffly, looking up bravely at the amused King.

"I think he's stupid," The Queen told the King childishly. "I want to smack him."

"No, darling. We must not belittle others. Rather, we should set a good example for our kingdom." The King said soothingly and ran a hand through the queen's shiny hair. "With brave, decent deeds." The King's eyes shone with an enraptured mist like that of a faraway memory.

"Have at me, misguided knave," The King sighed genially, stepping down from the throne and throwing open his golden cloak.

And the knight took one heavy step toward the King. And then a few more steps. And then he charged, screaming random, incoherent obscenities and he ran, his long nameless sword drawn.

Just when the hall had begun to vibrate with the loudness of the screams of the alarmed court members, a miraculous happening made everyone stop short. With a thundering clang, the knight's sword tumbled from his hand to the floor, at the feet of the unmolested King.

"Oh!" Cried the court members in unison, as the King opened his eyes and said regally, "It seems that inanimate objects love me just as much as the next person."

The knight was flabbergasted, but being the cunning man he was, he had other tricks up his sleeve.

"GO, YACHIRU. I CHOOSE YOU!" He roared, drawing a small pink-haired child from his cloak and hurling it at the adorably bewildered King.

"You're too reckless." Smiled the King, slicking his hair back smoothly, and the child tumbled to the ground to the knight's dismay.

The hall erupted into noise with the cheers and screams of a thousand court members.

"Hush, beloved fellows!" Called the King, holding up both hands, "Let us not disparage the ambitions of this wholly innocent young boy!"

The knight lay at the King's feet sulkily, and toyed with the bells at the ends of his spiky hair.

The King bent down, and patted the knight's back encouragingly. "Come back in fifty years time."

After the tedious court meeting, the King and Queen retired to their private quarters.

"Shall we have a bath together?" The King suggested playfully to the Queen, stroking her cheek tenderly.

But for once, the Queen wasn't smiling. In fact, she had a small, tired frown on her face.

"Darling…I think there's something wrong with our son."

"Shall we use lavender bath salts or papaya? I do love the scent of lavender on a cold day!" Mused the King.

"Darling!" Whined the Queen and felt peeved at her husband's annoying tendency to ignore what he deemed tiresome to consider. It was entertaining to witness but oh so irritating when she was the victim.

"Then again, the texture of papaya bath salts are just oh-so-refreshing." The King carried on affably.

"DARLING!" The Queen snapped pinched the king's nipples.

That got his attention.

"What?" He gasped, swiveling around.

"Darling," Said the Queen through gritted teeth, "I've been meaning to tell you. I think our son, the Prince, is gay."

A/N:

King – Aizen-sama

Queen – Ichimaru Gin

Maid – Tousen

Aaroneiro – Scribe

Visitors – Kenpachi, Mayuri and Nemu K, Hitsugaya


	3. Dysfunction

DISCLAIMER: Cindquiorra and her family belong to Mr. Tite Kubo.

When Cindquiorra had finished her pre-evening, post-afternoon chores it was just in time for dinner, and since the cellar was under construction to become part of the girls' new indoor swimming park, she was allowed to eat with the rest of the family at the big table.

The dinner started off as normal as possible for this dysfunctional family. The two stepsisters had been out shopping for clothes in nearby Karakura 109, and were showing off their latest purchases to their mother, who had been getting her hair straightened in the meantime.

"You're so _boring_, Yammy!" The younger sister rolled her eyes, playing with her fork.

"I AM NOT." Bellowed Yammy and spat out a wad of pudding into the vase of wilting roses that had been positioned strategically in front of him.

"Yes you are, you fat pig. Today we went into Urahara's Boutique and Yammy bought the most boring thing in the world. A black shirt. It has no ruffles, no, like, lace, no glitter or sequin…or PINK! It's just…a lame black shirt." The younger sister said the word "fat" like it was the worst possible curse and the greatest bane possible in a person's life. The opposite applied to "pink", which was uttered with utmost reverence.

"BLACK'S SLIMMING!" Yammy screamed with the force of twenty large hollows, and a blob of pudding made a valiant effort, sailing over the vase entirely and onto his anguished sister's hair.

"My…my hair!" For a moment or two the younger sister sat, crushed and devastated.

"MY HAIR!" She gaped for another stunned moment or two, before leaping across the table and scratching wildly at Yammy's face until there were red marks down her sister's cheeks.

Her sister, lacking agility and nimbleness, made up with bulk. A single punch cracked the panes of glass in both frames of the younger sibling's spectacles, which had resiliently withstood the force of that hefty fist.

A brawl of epic proportions was about to begin.

"SHADDUP!" Barked their mother, flipping her greasy hair over her back where it remained glued to her robes.

Cindquiorra sighed and chewed blankly as the table erupted into chaos around her.

It took a while and a boisterous stream of violence but finally, the lively family calmed down and the younger sister piped up again smugly.

"Why, mother, guess whom we saw at Urahara's! Ishida Uryuu of the Royal Family!"

The mother frowned grumpily and stabbed at a piece of meat in front of her. "Who?"

"Mother! ISHIDA URYUU, that nice boy with the spectacles!"

"She means the dorky geek with the god awful curtain hair. The Prince's book writing…about himself…man." explained Yammy loudly.

"But he's so cute..."

Another catfight ensued, but this time Cindquiorra was more interested. What would a member of the Royal Family want with her peculiar family? Then again, she remembered her mother telling her the King was a complete loony and unnatural pervert. Best keep her nose out of this fishy business, and she didn't only mean her stepmother's breath.

"Anyway, Mother, Ishida Uryuu saw me while he was buying sewing wool and gave me this!" The younger sister said huffily, flourishing a piece of paper from the inside of her dress while pushing up her spectacles.

"Blind date at palace. Hot chicks needed." Mumbled their mother, squinting hard at the thick, well-made paper.

"It's a masquerade ball, mother! And it says that all beautiful young women of the kingdom are cordially invited! How romantic…" The younger sister sputtered, but her mother only shrugged and said, "Same difference."

"I'll bet they're doing this to convert that weird little Prince of ours. Best get him married off to one of them hot girls. Who wants a kingdom run by a freak?" Yammy asked rhetorically, a complete stranger to irony.

The mother leered.

"And who would the Prince pay more attention to than my gorgeous daughters?" She said with a leering grin, as her older daughter preened, gazing at her reflection in a shard of what was once a vase, and her younger daughter twirled a lock of shiny pink hair. "Marry the Prince, my daughters; I will give you all you need so you can succeed. And then, we will have riches, we will have power, our family name will travel to the furthest corners of the kingdom and beyond!"

Then as if nothing eventful had ever happened, the sisters cheered and went back to eating and discussing the newest make-up, shoes, make-up, body, shoes, hair, make-up, politics ("Say, isn't that Ishida Uryuu dating that nameless peasant boy Ichigo-something-or-other?" "That boy really needs a new pair of spectacles, he obviously can't see what or who he's doing.").

No one knew, however, that the words of the stepmother rang like peals in Cindquiorra's head, long after they had been spoken. Late in the night, hours after the traumatic dinner, after a traumatic paradigm shift, Cindquiorra crouched stealthily in the cellar. Feverishly she sewed; frenetically she brushed her hair until it shone once again.

With reverent fingers she stroked the liquid satin of her mother's wedding gown, and picked up the mirror of moonstone to gaze at her reflection for the first time in ages. What she saw was satisfying, it filled her with a rush of adrenaline and on her tongue lingered the heady taste of power soon to come.

She was going to go to the masquerade ball. She was going to seduce the Prince and one day become the Queen. She was going to escape from a life she was never bred for. She would do it one wily, shrewd step at a time.


	4. The Fairy Godmother

The signs of a tragedy were obvious the moment she'd stepped out of the barn and into the dining hall, where she had been feeding the second sister's hybrid pets. Her hair was plastered to her slim neck with salty sweat and a strong scent of chemicals and manure clung to her clothes, giving birth to a truly catastrophic nasal confection.

The first unnatural sign was her younger stepsibling scoffing a plate of rich chocolate mousse. When did she ever eat?

The second was that her older stepsibling was doing the same thing and her gluttony had not been ridiculed mercilessly by her sister.

Cindquiorra knew from the looks of outraged glee on their faces that her secret had been unearthed. Her eyes followed the shreds of white satin and tulle as they lay in scraps on various steps of the grand flight of stairs leading up to the second floor.

The stepmother stood at the topmost step wearing a wicked look of triumph. She was also wearing Cindquiorra's mother's wedding gown, except that it had been clumsily personally altered to reveal far more cleavage than anyone would have liked to see. Cindquiorra awkwardly averted her gaze from the gaping hole in the chest area of the once stunning white gown.

"Where did you think you were going in this?" Sneered her stepmother.

And Cinquiorra bowed her head to hide the shameful wobble in her lower lip. "Nowhere," she mumbled. And the truth hurt.

A happily ever after did not seem imminent for the unlikely heroine of our tale.

Later, as the other members of the household were having an afternoon session of beauty sleep, Cindquiorra frowned up at the dark, mouldy cellar ceiling.

"It was very unfair." She said petulantly to nothing in particular.

"If I were there, the prince wouldn't be able to tear his eyes off of me!" She whispered bitterly.

"Someone help me!" She cried in frustration, into the wet-smelling darkness and was surprised by the loudness of her own voice.

Finally, when she felt she had divested herself of any form of emotion she dusted off the thin brown dress and got up to begin a new round of never ending chores.

Meanwhile, in another place so isolated so as to be accessible only by time and magic, two young men scurried up from their table where they'd been watching the previous scene unfold.

"Taichou…" Began the first young man hesitantly, because his lord was inside his private chambers and did not like to be disturbed.

"What is it?" They could all tell from the tone of the lord's voice that this occasion was no exception.

But, it was so important!

"We need to leave now. We've been summoned!" The other young man chimed in nervously, fiddling with a hole in his clothes, and leant in to whisper in the lord's ear as though they were in a public place, while they were actually in a magically protected enclave in the middle of nowhere.

The news was evidently very important, and the lord stood up with a flourish, clipping in his white hair accessories and tossing his magnificent mane of hair imperiously.

"Well, then, let's go. I thought this day would never come."

As Cindquiorra closed the gate to the garden, something unexpected caught her eye . And she was speechless when the two birds circling the mansion began to do even more suspicious. With a clumsiness uncharacteristic of birds, they tumbled to the ground a few meters from where she stood disbelievingly, and began to morph…

Into two tall and well-built men.

She ran up to them, and did what she had been trained to do.

"Ow!" Yelped the first man, a brawny fellow with striking red hair, quite long, but a bit out-control and tied up in a tight ponytail which made his receding hairline prominent.

"My mother told me never to talk to strange men with tattoos on their faces!" Explained Cindquiorra defensively.

"What? Stop it!" The other shouted, backing away. He was just as brawny as the first, both muscular arms displayed proudly in a sleeveless top.

She paid no attention to what she assumed were malevolent fairies from another kingdom, until a silky voice dripping with authority said from behind her, "Do stop, Ulquiorra. Oh my, how big you've grown since I last saw you. And what fine aim you have with that shovel."

This man she did recognize. She'd seen him a couple of times before, she knew him to be her father's friend and he used to visit when she was younger for tea and some frivolous small talk.

"Good afternoon! What are you doing here, Mr. Byakuya?" She said, and lowered the big stick.

He gently waved for the two quivering fairies to come join him, and they did.

"Now dear, I know every detail of the disaster that has just occurred. I know your new stepmother has forbidden you to go to the ball for fear of her two daughters being overlooked. I know how your dress was destroyed." Cindquiorra's face fell, but the stranger's adopted a small and kind smile. "I'm going to help you change all that, because I am your fairy godfather and I can make wonders happen."


	5. Drag Queens and Princes

"What about that Cirucci chick? She's not bad. Not bad at all…"

"No? Not at all?"

"Okay, what about this. Loly and Menoly and the ménage a trois…"

It was finally the day of the Grand Ball, and a life-changing day for one lucky girl and one violent prince of the land of Hueco Mundo. While the many beautiful girls of the nation were hard at work curling their hair and getting last-minute facials at the exclusive Yumichika's Salon, their coveted prince was instead out hunting with his friend Ilforte in the forest behind his castle, away from the chidings of his mother and the other maternal figures who stood outside the castle gates, shouting for him to please tell their daughters those precious words: "I do."

For good reason. Marriage into the royal family guaranteed an unimaginable uplifting of social status and wealth and a sorry end to the prince's carefree, wandering lifestyle. It just made Grimmjow sick.

"Halibel. Oh damn!" Ilforte exclaimed, unrolling the scroll further to continue perusing its contents.

The prince turned irritably to his companion, whose head had been buried in that cursed scroll all day. On it was a list of all the eligible maidens of the province, decreed by his royal pain in the ass of a father to attend the Grand Ball where Grimmjow would find his one true love.

Yeah, right.

They'd had a fearsome row about it too. First, the king had placidly cited the merits of marriage – a brand new trust fund, a new ship, and three new castles just outside of the province. The prince had declined, shouting how marriage is not a meaningless tool to secure material interests. Rather, it was a last resort for couples with anti-abortion values.

The queen had burst into an extravagant display of tears, weeping about how her dreams of grandchildren were only to be fulfilled by enlisting the land's most famous scientist in genetic engineering. The prince had shrugged and stated that he had no problems with Kurotsuchi getting rich from their idiocy.

At this point, the fierce quarrel had reached its climax.

"Oh, darling! I told you our son loves men. Our bloodline shall end with this imbecile and our family shall come to ruins." The queen had thrown herself into the king's arms, even as her husband half-strangled their son in an awkward familial embrace, assuring the kicking and screaming young man that they accepted and loved him dearly no matter what.

No one had listened to Grimmjow's impassioned defense that making out with Charlotte Choulhourne one time while inebriated did not constitute a change in his sexual orientation. The guy even had a turtleneck that disguised his Adams' apple and velvet gloves over his manly hands, for god's sake. Somehow, that had not been noted when the incident made headlines in the local press.

Just thinking about it soured the prince's mood even further.

"Shut up, you noisy asshole." Grimmjow growled. Ilforte's uncanny gift of scaring away any girl was extending itself to the many living creatures of the nearby hunting grounds that afternoon. Girls were no better than boars.

"Come on, check this out." Ilforte groaned, waving the comprehensive list. "Can't you pick at least one girl off this list and make your parents happy so we can have that kick ass after party? I mean look, Rangiku Matsumoto."

Grimmjow sighed. This was the umpteenth time his mother's best friend had been brought up. "Too loud."

"Orihime!" Ilforte's reply came with the speed of one engaging in a very familiar conversation. "She's practically Rangiku with a mute button."

"Don't care for redheads."

"Like them quiet? Nemu's cute too you know. Especially for a girl who was made from chemical X and wires." Ilforte did not give up easily.

"Daddy's girl doesn't have any opinions. Seems boring as hell."

"Momo. Cute chick with a cute name. Wonderful personality." Ilforte went on confidently, as if he had known the girl for years. "You can't say no to that."

Grimmjow digged in his heels, urging his horse to speed up in an effort to abandon his friend.

They were nearly back at the discrete back gate of the castle when the conversation too returned to its origins.

"I still don't get your issues with Loly and Menoly." Ilforte grumbled, punching Grimmjow in the side. "Do hot twins mean nothing to you? Are you really gay?" He pulled up in front of Grimmjow, startling the prince's sterling mount.

But it wasn't like that! No one believed him, but the prince just had immaculate standards. Standards that none had come close to. He'd seen them all, some in more detail than others – blonde girls, tall girls, petite girls, girls who were really men. There was no one left in the kingdom who could surprise him.

He had an idea. The prince leapt off his horse and got on one knee holding up a weed plucked randomly from the ground. "Ilforte, I have come to my senses. Will you be my princess and bear my offspring?"

But his friend merely sniffed. "Ask me again later at the ball and we'll see."

It was going to be a very long, very painful night.


End file.
